UXB Waiting.

Sniper in the darkened corner of the pub.
I caught a couple of pints.
Guilty like the condemned man,
At his last supper.
I watched the clock,
And the people pass.
Feeling like some unexploded bomb.
Refusing to make eye contact.
Worried that my observation,
Would be misinterpreted,
As police action,
Or social security spying.